


The Assistant

by EnduringChill



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnduringChill/pseuds/EnduringChill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born out of a Twitter discussion - this is a loose homage/crossover between the movie Secretary and Sherlock. </p><p>Becky Swift is looking for her first real job. Sherlock Holmes is a demanding boss. Despite her inexperience, they both find their working relationship very satisfying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Assistant

Becky

 

I wish I had a proper suit and not just a blazer and skirt that happen to go together. Maybe once I get a position, I can afford something nice for work or an interview. I curse at the run in my nylons. The clear polish sticks to my thigh causing a pull on my skin. I sit in a very drab office where the dark wood paneling chips at the bottom of the wall. A matronly woman glances up at me from her computer screen from time to time.

"He’ll be with you shortly." Her eyes flick away.

I nod, but shortly ended thirty minutes ago. I smooth the wool fabric over my knee. The control top digs into my waist and I feel warm. The office is musty and stuffy. As much as I want a job, I’m not sure I want this one.

"There’s water over there." She refers to a yellowed water cooler in the corner. The motor clicks on every five minutes.

"Thank you." I can barely swallow my throat is so tight.

I thought my first interview went well, but days stretched on without word. The temporary agency called to say they hired another girl with more experience.

The phone on the front desk buzzes so loud that I jump.

"He’s ready for you." The woman states sourly.

"Thank you." I gather my coat and briefcase.

She nods to the large double doors to her left. I pause in front of them with my hand poised to knock.

"Just go in. Don’t knock. Never knock." Her voice sends a chill down my spine.

I bite my lip and turn the knob. The office is enormous. It’s even darker than the reception area. At the very end is a large cherry desk. Dark leather wingback chairs face the desk. Against the left wall, a matching leather sofa stretches almost the entire length. The room is dimly lit with old ornate Tiffany lamps. Faded paintings of hunting dogs and old estates hang on the wooden paneling. Except for one photo hanging above what looks like an old liquor cabinet. It’s a painting of a lily and is lovingly illuminated by a special light.

I clear my throat. “Mr. Holmes?”

"Do sit down." A deep voice announces.

I squint to find the owner. The bathroom appears empty. My eyes whip around. Where did it come from?

"I know you can hear me. Sit down." The voice almost growls.

Quickly, I perch myself at the edge of the chair across from the desk.

 

 

A nest of dark curls rises from behind the desk so swiftly and gracefully, I gasp. I crane my neck to look into eyes so clear that I’m not sure they are real. Your gaze latches on to me.

 

 

"Rebecca." My name rolls off your tongue like caramel.

"Becky." I clear the catch in my throat.

You turn away. “Rebecca.”

Nervously, I pick at the nail on my index finger. You pull the dark orange curtain back to gaze outside suspiciously. The sun casts a shadow on chiseled cheekbones. One large hand smooths down the front of your black suit. The silk shirt below matches your eyes. You are the most amazing thing I’ve seen. Without realising, I am leaning closer with mouth hanging open.

"You’ll catch a fly." You take your seat across from me so swiftly I flinch. You pull out my resume to scan. "Close your mouth, Rebecca. Your mouth breathing is distracting."

"Sorry." I mumble. A slight whistle comes through my left nostril and I want to die in this chair.

You glance up with a deep frown. “I don’t think this will work, Rebecca.” You emphasize the hard ‘c’ in my name.

"Please Mr. Holmes." I place my hand on the desk. "I’m a hard worker."

"You’ve never done office work. How can you state that?" You wrinkle your nose.

"I’ve worked in my father’s office since I was a kid." I stammer.

"You are still a child." Long fingers wave me off.

"Give me a chance to prove myself to you. I’m begging you." I cry. I need this job so desperately that I will get on my knees if need be.

Delight flashes in those surreal eyes. Your eyebrows arch as the corner of your mouth twitches. “Prove yourself?”

 

 

"Please, sir. I’m desperate for a job and a chance to make something of myself." I’m leaning against your desk now.

Your eyes take a sweep from my dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail down my neck and opening of my yellow blouse. I sit back with my cheeks burning knowing you’ve seen my padded bra.

You stand and clasp your hands behind your back. Taking a deep breath, you begin to unravel my life story in that entrancing baritone that lulls my senses. You know how old I am. You know I’m an only child. You state that my father left my mother and me two years ago and that I’ve been hospitalized twice for depression since. I have a cat that scratches me when I feed him. I hate crowds and new situations. You know everything about me.

"You’ll catch a fly, Rebecca." You sigh.

"That was amazing, sir." I whisper.

You turn to me. “You think so?”

I nod. “Yes. Is it on a report?”

You almost grin. “I observe you, Rebecca. The way you sit. The way you almost knocked to come in despite being told to come in. Your mismatched suit and your gaudy blouse. Even your breathing pattern gives you away.”

"Amazing." I watch your dark curls bounce as you move your head. You are simply gorgeous.

Your finger caresses plump lips while you pace behind your desk. You steal a glance at me before swiftly moving in front of me. I shrink back in the chair. Your eyes appraise my entire being for what feels like eternity. I feel dismantled. You lean against the desk with your arms crossed.

"A trial run. That is my offer. You report tomorrow at 8:30 sharp." Your hand waves over me. "In something more suitable. I give you one week."

"Oh thank you, Mr. Holmes." I gush.

"Compose yourself, Miss Swift. One week." Your chin dips and you peer at from under a crown of curls. Your eyes feel like a two hot prods against my skin. I almost lose the ability to swallow. "Do not disappoint me, Rebecca."

 

 

My name sounds like a curse uttered during a dirty film.

With a nod, I chew on my bottom lip. “Of course, sir.”

Your nostrils flare as if taking in my scent. You move back behind your desk and gracefully fold yourself in your oxblood chair.

"That is all." I am dismissed with a wave of your hand and loss of eye contact.

I nearly trip over my flats scrambling to the door. Bravely, I glance over my shoulder. Your shoulder hunch over as you read something on your desk with concentrated interest. You don’t stir as I slip out the door.

The lady at reception looks up startled.

I cannot contain my grin. “I start tomorrow!”

"You do?" She squeaks.

"I do. 8:30." I beam.

She shuffles out from behind her desk. “Then I better introduce myself. I’m Mrs. Hudson.”

I shake her hand vigorously. “Sorry. I’m just so excited.”

"That you are," she says carefully. "That will pass."

"Is he a hard boss?" I begin to worry.

Her eyes pass over me. “He can be…demanding. Prepare yourself. Get here for 8:15 so you are ready to begin at 8:30. And listen. Don’t speak, just listen. He’s very….intense.”

"Thank you so much. I’ll be here super early." I shake her hand again. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

I wave like a fool, but I don’t care. I got a job! I rush to my mum’s car.

"Well?" She asks.

"I got it!" I yell. "I start tomorrow."

She frowns. “That’s it? No second interview or reference check?”

I know mum doesn’t mean to be negative. Since dad left, she’s had a hard time seeing the good in anything. That hasn’t helped me keep a smile on my face.

"He just knows I’ll do a good job." I don’t tell her about my trial week. I just know I’ll be hired permanently.

I look back to the office. For a moment, I think I see a face peering through orange curtains.


End file.
